


A Force That Splits the Red Sea

by goyangi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goyangi/pseuds/goyangi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa calls for anchors aweigh, so he can sail out to a new journey. But anchors' a weight, and if he forgets it, he will sail off the horizon and sink into the dark, dark, deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Ui, because IOU and ILU.

Oikawa dreams of blood splattered on white sands.

 

* * *

  
Iwaizumi dreams of the world above.

He was young then, but now…

He knows he could not gain, much less  _be_  in such a whole other parallel because anything beyond the water’s reign is untouchable.

He knows this so well when he first sets his eyes on the big white blazing flag that was whipping strongly against the wind (that he cannot feel lapping at his skin, or he will dry up). The flag was attached to that of a boat and the people (that he cannot show himself to, or he will be killed) on it basked in the warmth of the sun, sky and sea (that he cannot leave, or he will have no home.)

“It is a bad idea,” he thinks, and swims away from the surface and into the deep.

Nothing is a bad idea if you can escape the silent howl of the monsters dwelling in the dark waters that you are a prisoner to.

 

* * *

  
Oikawa remembers a boy from long ago, back when he helped out on the deck of his father’s ship (cabin duties, ugh) and the boy would stare—furrow those  _thick_  eyebrows—at him with so much intent that it was unnerving. And it takes a  _lot_  to shake him, not even the crash of waves against the sides of the boat, toppling and swaying as if trying to drown them.

He also remembers that very same boy surfacing from the cyan blue while he sat under the glare of the Sun, back against the smooth, flat boulder that he climbed on, kicking his feet as his toes skim the surface of the waters. With little effort, Oikawa pretends he does not see the tuft of black hair that wades towards him. Nobody else was out today, especially so when the spot of the lagoon he hangs out at is secluded due to the heavy greens that keep prying eyes away. 

He feels a prodding on his toes and  _finally_  looks down. There was little the boy could do to hide as he swims behind the boulder, trying to dodge away from view. Nevertheless, he senses Oikawa’s gaze and dips his face lower into the water, but his eyes remain above the surface to look at the toes and then at the face: the face that was hard to read, what with that  _shit_ -eating grin— 

At this, Oikawa wriggles his (probably fascinating) toes and barks out a laugh when the boy swims farther away from him. “You’re weird,” he remarks.

“I should be the one saying that!” the boy hisses back then realizes he has shown himself, his eyebrows pulled together as his shoulders squares against his rough black hair which spiked out in all directions (very much like a cat, Oikawa thinks to himself).

“Takes one to know one,” Oikawa grins, making the boy click his tongue as if annoyed.

“Well, I certainly have  _never_  seen you around before. Trust me, I’d know what goes on around here. I’m practically the child of sea!” as he says that, Oikawa spreads his arms out wide as the sea breeze catches the hem of his sleeves and ruffles his wavy brown hair.

He really does look like the poster child of summer and frothing waves.

The boy raises an eyebrow, the ends of his lips twitches as he snorts out in contempt at the statement.  _He knows nothing of the sea_ , he thinks and watches as seagulls flew above them. He submerges himself when he hears the shift of sand under one's feet, gills on his neck flaring out just a bit.

“Oikawa Tooru, if I do not see the tip of your nose out here in a second I will make you go back to your cabin duties!” bellows a voice, settling at a deep baritone that rumbles the two boys out of their breezy reverie.

“Oops! That’s me!” Oikawa turns to the other, his tongue sticking out in a look of childish mischief, “You won’t tell on anyone where I usually hide, right fish boy?” he ventures.  
  
_Did he know who—what he is?_ The boy gazes sharply at him. Clenching and then unclenching his fists, he grumbles at Oikawa. “Iwaizumi…my name is Iwa—” the boy offered in a soft mutter only to be cut off by the brunet’s obnoxious chortle.

“I’ll see ya again soon then, Iwa-chan!”

But Oikawa never did get to see him again, not after the coarse waters of the ocean wrecked his father’s ship along with his crew. Not after a battle between the Devil and the deep blue sea. Not after the shades of grey washes out the blue from his eyes. Not after the molasses on his new ship hardens as he, too, hardens to climb back up to be what was best for everyone else. He was no more a cabin boy not after he learns of the Northern Star and the muck of pirates.

But the ocean itself is a cycle, where death meets life.  
  
All was not lost after all, child of sea.

 

* * *

  
Iwaizumi remembers a boy from long ago, back when he was a mere fledgling.

He remembers the Sun that the boy wears on his skin, the light in his eyes and the warmth in his smile as his fingers reach out to the salty afternoon breeze. He especially remembers how, upon returning home to the sea bed, the feeling similar of talons grip his skin and bite into it—stinging as much as the Sun would have. 

_Never go where the Light touches, or you will burn!_  The voice hisses a shrouded threat that swallows his cries as he thrashes about. "But the ocean will be dead without the help of light!"  _Petulant child! You know not the plundering of Man who come from the Light but bleed Dark!_

Now when Iwaizumi resurfaces again (petulant child!) due to the incessant pull of the life beyond, he was met with Light—which confuses him because the Sun should not have been up at this time of night. He hears the crackling sound of thunder, and something like the bellows of monsters that licks and tears at his skin. There was a faint smell of blood and gunpowder. For the first time his curiosity wanes and he swims back down just a bit, blocking out the malicious laughter,  _Child, you know nothing!_

Finally, everything dies down and the silence fills him. It was deafening.

Iwaizumi looks up to see the distorted reflection of the moon on the surface, and he sees fingers dipping in. With a flick of his tail, he swims towards it, as if wanting to pull those fingers in instead.

It was a rowing boat.

Silently swirling around a castaway rowing boat, he peeks in to see who or what could be dwelling out at such a time—all alone, surrounded by the black blanket of the night sky and the black waters.

It was a boy. His skin was resplendent under moonlight, eyes half-lid in exhaustion, lips almost blue as they tighten into a frown, the tip of his fingers cold.

“Fish boy…?” his voice was weak, so was the brush of fingers against Iwaizumi’s cheek.

It was the boy from long ago.

 

* * *

  _They became a tale as old as time._

  
“You sure you’re not a siren?”

“Shut up Assikawa.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan!” 

Oikawa pouts, leaning his face against his arms as he rests on the boulder. His legs lazily swirl beneath him, trying to keep his body afloat. Iwaizumi lies on said boulder, tail dipped in the cool waters, flicking with a 'swish', 'swish', 'swish'. Oikawa's fingers brush against Iwaizumi's cold skin, blazing (red) (hot) trails in its path.

"Even if you're not a siren, I will still come to you," Oikawa whispers into his ear.

Red, as red as corals can be, dusted the cheeks—and ears—of Iwaizumi before his eyes flash with (red) (hot) anger and embarrassment, "Do you always say meaningless stuff?!" With that, he gives Oikawa a mouthful of his tail, as all he hears is a muffled “Ow!”

They were not meaningless at all.

"What do you know about sirens anyway? You know nothing," Iwaizumi sneers as he sits up to stare down at the man with eyes so dark like ebony, “You know nothing of the sea.”

Something flashes across Oikawa’s face but it was fleeting and Iwaizumi took little notice of it. In fact, he notices a lot about him, as flamboyant Oikawa tends to be, there were those little things that draw him out.

"But I know you...of what you are..." 

Oikawa’s fingers skittishly roam across the soft expanse of Iwaizumi’s abdomen, where skin melts into scales that shimmer under light.

“I know a lot about fish, Iwa-chan…”

“Fuck you! I’m not  _fish_!”

“Right, mer _maid_ , was it?” Oikawa teases and pinches at Iwaizumi’s nipple, “For shame, mermaid, corals caught your clamshell bra?”

Said mermaid throws the insufferable prick onto the shore. They both splutter as teeth bites at sun-kissed skin. “Stop, Iwa-chan! I’m sorry—I’m so— _rry_!” Both pant, eyeing each other, as the evening sky becomes a colour shy away from red.

Like blood pumping through their veins, the intensity they feel which burns and bubble under their skin.

 

Dry lips meet slick, wet ones and tongues sought each other out. Teeth clash like waves onto shore. Hands grab and  _grab_ , sand sticking in between spaces. Toes curl and fins twitch.

Cold, webbed fingers rubs at a hot, solid pulsing—Oikawa does not know where this is going.

“Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi does not know either.

“Oikawa, what are we doing?” Iwaizumi manages out, his breath stuttering as a finger slides agonizingly slowly against his core, the slit fluttering under the touch.

“I want to know more about…you…the sea…the songs of the deep…”

Oikawa plunges into secrets and depths like an anchor, Iwaizumi sings—like chimes against the breeze, trinkets against ankles, trilling and thrilling.

They want to get closer, and closer, until their skin melts into one. Nothing stands between them, but still they are so far apart.

The sea swallows the setting sun as it sinks into the horizon.

 

* * *

  
Both of them spend their lazy afternoons at the mouth of the lagoon, talking about the tales of the seven seas: a tale of when Oikawa fights, defeats, and conquers.

(“My father was the best captain, of course. I can’t match up to him but I am what I am. I am my father’s son.”

“I doubt your father was a fool.”)

Iwaizumi learns more of Oikawa, not so much of the life above sea, but he cannot complain and he feels pulled in, enamored. He gets caught line, hook and sinker.

(“No fool would back down against Shiratorizawa. That clan is nothing but wolves disguised as mere poppy white swans.”

“You've conquered evertyhing.”

“I haven’t conquered anything _yet_.”)

Oikawa passes Iwaizumi a wry smile.

 

* * *

  
Iwaizumi sees to Oikawa, but he falls into his arms instead. There is red on Oikawa’s hands as they stain his skin: the colours seeping through and through like how sin desires to taint the pure. His fingers clutch at the body wrapped in his arms, as if he was trying to anchor himself before he could fly off in the fit of (red) (hot) rage.

Iwaizumi—is—his anchor.

Not  _deadweight_.

The red in his eyes swirl into something darker, like the greying of clouds in the sky, posing ominously for what is to come. Grey turns to black as a name pours out of his mouth like death.

“Ushijima.”

 

* * *

  
Oikawa sees blood splattered on white sands.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You either take flight or fight. Oikawa fights without wings.

Oikawa remembers but he tries to forget the sound that pulses in his head like the thunder of cannon fire. The smell of sulfur sticks to him, making his eyes water. He blinks back the sting when a shadow casts over him like an impending doom.

“You shouldn’t have fought back, you should’ve joined us instead.”

He spits at the foot of the man in front of him, but words fail him and he could only snarl as blood stains his teeth and the taste of metal fills his mouth. (It does not quite get rid of the bitter taste of defeat.)

“I would…” Oikawa takes a shuddering breath, “…rather die." 

“Your pride will only bring you your demise.”

“Then remember it.”

The man takes his leave, the shuffling of his other crew-members following behind. Tired eyes blink back at their silhouettes, squinting as the billowing wind whips the huge white flag before them. _Eagles were on it,_ Oikawa recalls. He smirks weakly. _No, they were swans._

Turning his head, Oikawa searches out the wide stretch of the shore.

His men, many were unconscious (or…no, he would not even think of it) from the battle, lay in heaps around him but he seeks out only one. A loud crash of waves catches his attention then, where he sees a familiar strike of shiny turquoise scales under the light of the Sun. As sweat pools and falls into his eyes, the view blurs as he tries to call out a name, the name of that person—a body lay curled up where the sea meets land. He reaches out a hand and he opens his mouth. His throat was parched, his voice was gone but he continues to reach out.

Attempting to crawl on his belly, he feels a slight tug on his right leg. He looks at it; blood seeping through his pants and along came the accompaniment of pain. 

Oikawa blinks away the sweat—tears—and the body on the shore was gone. 

 _Do mermaids live forever?_  

He tries to remember but he forgets.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Does it have to end this way?" I asked myself. There is still a question mark right there.


End file.
